“I said,” Adrian hissed.
“Fucking say that again.”
Everyone in the room glanced at each other, shifting in discomfort.
The room was plunged into thick, heavy silence.
“Alpha Adrian.” Mason greeted, breaking the silence.
His eyes darted between Mira and Adrian, before settling on Adrian.
“It’s a surprise to see you here.”
“Oh is it?” Adrian seethed, turning to face the others.
“When you were all placing bets on who my date was going to be.”
“I can assure you—” Mason began smoothly, hands raised in a placating gesture, “—this is all a misunderstanding.”
Adrian’s eyes flicked to him, his expression cold and cutting.
“A misunderstanding?” he repeated softly.
Mason offered a strained smile.
“You know how it is.
Drinks flowing, mouths running.
No one meant any harm by it.”
Mira noted how carefully he chose his words.
Typical Mason, trying to play the good guy.
Mason turned slightly, positioning himself between Adrian and the others, the competent Beta trying to restore order.
Everyone squirmed, faced with the aura of an angry Alpha.
Adrian didn’t back down.
“Alpha Adrian, we were just joking among ourselves.
Crude humor, yes, but nothing serious.
No one here would ever intentionally disrespect the Luna.”
A few of the men nodded quickly, eager to agree, to quell the growing conflict.
Adrian stepped closer.
“Funny,” he said.
“Because I distinctly heard my wife being called a whore.”
The room went still.
Mason’s jaw tightened slightly.
“That wasn’t—”
“Who said it?” Adrian demanded.
Mason hesitated for half a second too long.
That was when laughter cut through the tension.
“Oh, relax,” a voice slurred from the far end of the booth.
“Don’t act like it’s not true.”
The speaker—a broad-shouldered wolf with flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes—leaned back against the couch, drink dangling loosely from his fingers.
He grinned, emboldened by alcohol and an audience.
“Don’t,” Mason snapped under his breath.
“You’ve had enough.”
But the man waved him off.
“Why?
We’re all thinking it.
Or are we pretending now?”
Adrian turned fully toward him.
“What did you just say?”
The man shrugged exaggeratedly.
“I said maybe the rumors didn’t come from nowhere.
Three years ago, she disappeared, came back broken, and we’re supposed to believe she didn’t spread her legs for someone else?”
The words landed like a slap.
Mira felt something go very still inside her.
Her assault had somehow reached here again.
Adrian moved before Mason could intervene.
He crossed the space in two strides and grabbed the man by the collar, yanking him to his feet.
“Who told you that?” Adrian roared.
“Who started that rumor?”
The man laughed in his face.
“Why do you care now?
You didn’t care back then.”
That did it.
Adrian slammed him into the table, glass shattering, drinks spilling everywhere.
The room erupted—shouts, chairs scraping, someone yelling Adrian’s name—but it all blurred.
The man swung back, catching Adrian in the jaw.
Mason cursed loudly.
“Shit—”
They went down together, fists flying, raw and unrestrained.
It wasn’t an Alpha disciplining a subordinate anymore—it was two wolves tearing into each other.
Mira watched it all with eerie calm.
She didn’t scream, she didn’t intervene, didn’t beg Adrian to stop.
She simply turned away, her wolf quiet.
She’d come here to celebrate with her friend, but somehow ended up being completely humiliated by Adrian yet again.
As security rushed in and Mason shouted orders, Mira slipped out of the booth, the music swallowing the chaos behind her.
She didn’t look back.
She went straight home, straight to her room, ignoring Ivy’s questions.
She packed her clothes into a suitcase.
She didn’t bother arranging them, didn’t even bother glancing at them.
Her movements were instinctual, a burning need to get away from the house before Adrian arrived.
“Mira?” Ivy called, following her.
Mira didn’t stop.
She zipped the last suitcase, dragging it down the stairs, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
“Mira,” Ivy breathed. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“What’re you doing?”
Mira brushed past her.
She didn’t slow.
A uniformed security guard hovered near the entrance, drawn by Mira’s earlier mindlink for help.
“Can you help me with this?” Mira asked calmly, setting the suitcase down and turning to him.
“I’ll be leaving now.”
The guard blinked, then nodded.
“Yes, Luna.”
Ivy’s head snapped toward him.
“Wait—what?
No.
Don’t touch that.”
Mira ignored her, lifting the second suitcase and handing it over as well.
Ivy tried—or pretended to.
But Mira could see through her act, could see the satisfaction gleaming in her eye.
“Tell Adrian I’m gone.” Mira ordered, her chin raised.
She didn’t let Ivy respond.
She slammed the door in her face, eager to leave before Adrian got back.
She didn’t want to deal with him.
***
Mira spent the next couple of days settling into her new apartment—and pretending her mate did not exist.
The space was small but clean, tucked away in a quiet building far from the Pack House.
Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains in the mornings, and at night, the city hummed softly outside her window.
It felt neutral.
Untainted.
Safe from humiliation and pain.
She unpacked slowly, deliberately.
Clothes hung neatly in the closet.
Shoes lined by the door.
Her toothbrush placed, her scent settling into the space.
Every small act felt like reclaiming something that had been taken from her.
Adrian did not take the silence well.
Her phone buzzed constantly.
Texts.
Calls.
Voicemails.
‘Please talk to me.’
‘I made a mistake.’
‘You can’t just shut me out.’
‘Mira.’
She muted him.
When that didn’t work, he tried the bond.
She shut that down too—walls slamming into place.
It hadn’t been difficult.
Her wolf had grown used to his absence.
The sudden quiet that followed felt like oxygen flooding her lungs.
Then he sent Mason.
Mira glanced through the peephole, her expression hardening.
Mason.
She didn’t open the door.
“Luna,” he called through the wood, voice carefully neutral.
“Alpha Adrian wants to talk.”
Mira didn’t respond.
She pressed her lips together.
“I’m not here to argue,” he added.
“Just to help.”
She almost laughed.
Help.
Like he hadn’t mocked her in that club, hadn’t used her trauma as a weapon against her.
“Tell your Alpha,” she finally said, her voice carrying through the door, “that if he sends you here again, I’ll have security escort you out.”
There was a pause.
She almost thought he’d left, till he spoke again
“…Understood,” Mason said finally, deciding not to argue.
She heard his retreating footsteps.
Mira had thought that was the last of it.
Until Adrian came himself that evening.
He stood outside her door for nearly an hour, knocking, calling her name, apologizing into the quiet hallway like a penitent fool.
She listened from the couch, unmoved, until his voice finally cracked with frustration.
“Mira, please,” he said hoarsely.
“I know you’re in there.”
She didn’t respond.
The old her would’ve been happy, would’ve been satisfied that her mate was going through such lengths to win her back.
But the new Mira—the one who’d been through all the disappointments—sat unfazed.
Eventually, he left.
By the third day, Ivy came.
Mira was pouring herself a cup of tea when the doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
She didn’t move, assuming it was Adrian again.
“Mira?” Ivy’s voice drifted through the door, fragile and trembling.
“Please…
I just want to apologize.”
Mira closed her eyes.
Of course.
She considered ignoring her still, but in the end, curiosity won.
She opened the door halfway, not inviting Ivy in, her body angled to block the entrance.
Ivy stood there in a pale dress, her eyes red-rimmed, one hand resting protectively on her stomach.
“I didn’t mean to cause problems,” Ivy whispered.
“I never wanted to hurt you.
I’m sorry.”
Mira studied her quietly, not buying the act one bit.
“For what?” she asked.
Ivy hesitated.
“For…
everything,” she said carefully.
“For the house.
For Adrian.
For the past.”
The past.
The words stuck out to Mira.
Her gaze sharpened, her interest piqued.
“Which part of the past?”
Ivy swallowed.
“I—I was angry back then.
I said things I shouldn’t have.”
“What things?” Mira pressed, her tone calm, soft—practiced.
There was a short silence, then Ivy broke.
“I told them,” she blurted.
“I told them what happened three years ago.
About the assault.
I didn’t think they’d spread it.
I just—”
The words slammed into Mira.
Her lips parted, her lungs stopped.
It had been Ivy.
Not only had Adrian spilled her secret to Ivy, Ivy had spread it.
Betrayal twisted deep in her gut.
Once again, Adrian had betrayed her.
But this time, she didn’t cry, didn’t rage.
She laughed.
It was a soft, humorless sound, stemming from streaks of hurt and betrayal.
Adrian—who had been standing just out of sight—stepped forward sharply.
“You did what?”
Ivy spun toward him, panicked.
“Adrian, I didn’t mean—”
“You told them?” His voice rose.
“You told people about that?”
“I was scared,” Ivy cried.
“I thought she’d leave you—”
Adrian exploded.
“Do you have any idea what you did to her?” he roared.
“She trusted me with that!
That was not yours to tell!”
Mira watched the scene unfold with detached clarity, watched him have the audacity to yell at her like he hadn’t been the one to betray her, to break her.
Then Ivy gasped.
“Oh—” She clutched her stomach, bending forward dramatically.
“Adrian…
it hurts.”
Everything stopped.
Adrian’s anger vanished instantly.
“Ivy?” He rushed to her side.
“What’s wrong?”
“I—I think I’m going into labor,” she whimpered.
“The baby—”
That was it.
Mira had enough.
She stepped back, shutting the door calmly as Adrian shouted for help.
She leaned against the wood, listening as footsteps scrambled, as panic replaced confrontation, as everyone moved in like Ivy hadn’t just confessed to breaking her.
When the hallway finally fell silent, she smiled.
A slow, genuine smile.
She picked up her phone and dialed the building manager.
“Yes,” she said pleasantly.
“I’d like to place Adrian and Ivy on the permanent no-entry list.
Effective immediately.”
A pause.
“Yes.
I’m sure.”
She ended the call, setting the phone down gently.
They would never stand at her door again.
And for the first time in a long while, that felt like freedom.
Real freedom.